


Curiosity

by clavonrie



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Choking, Frottage, NB Byleth, Other, spoilers for month 12, yeah its sexual choking it’s Claude y’all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 06:42:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20169844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clavonrie/pseuds/clavonrie
Summary: Why did he find them so incredibly interesting? It was a question he asked himself often, almost every night since they’d arrived which, wow, was a lot of nights to have your mind occupied by your new teacher.--His teacher is a curiosity he finds he can’t live without anymore.





	Curiosity

Why did he find them so incredibly interesting? It was a question he asked himself often, almost every night since they’d arrived which, wow, was a lot of nights to have your mind occupied by your new teacher. It’d been a little over half a year, the Ethereal Moon casting an excited haze over the school as the ball approached, and still he could remember the strange twinge of heat he’d felt in his chest when they’d met. Hell, he still felt it, less of a twinge now and more of a full on burn, a simmer under his skin when they praised him after a lesson well learned, when he made an off-color joke and their lips learned to twitch into a rueful smile.

He and the other house leaders had pressed them offhandedly, asked which of the three of them caught this strange, stoic mercenary’s eye, and their gaze drifted between the three of them before steadying upon Claude. He swallowed then, throat working beneath a practiced smile. The walk back to Garreg Mach would never have led him to believe he’d be so inordinately effected by this stranger he would learn to call his Teach. They were quiet, and it was only the attentiveness in their eyes and the way they’d nod in response to his, Dimitri, and Edelgard’s chatter that he knew they were listening. 

He’d wandered the monastery yesterday, lost in thought and losing bits of his already slim sleep schedule to thoughts of Remire Village and to the way people forced their shoulders to relax so they could enjoy daydreaming about the ball. Of every house, he wanted desperately for his friends to be as at ease as possible, if only for a month, a week, even just a day. Life had become impossibly complicated in the half a year that jump started with his professor’s arrival, he noticed. Were the two things related? Or merely a coincidence? He wasn’t enough of a fool to disregard the appearance of chaotic days that accompanied the appearance of his favorite teacher, and wondered simultaneously what it all could... mean? It drove him mad, laying for hours on his book-covered bed, staring at the ceiling hard enough he was sure he’d inscribe his thoughts into the wood. 

He stood for a moment in the mess hall, lost in his thoughts, when he heard fellow students chittering about legends he paid little mind to, about who to ask to the ball and who to ask up to the tower. He’d even stumbled upon two young ladies embracing in the garden, joyously accepting each other’s proposal to dance together, and his mind was once again occupied by the glint of black armor, the flutter of a long coat, and the observant eyes of his Teach. He may not have been the proper, elegant type of nobility like Edelgard, or as unendingly devoted to a throne of rules like Dimitri, but he was a noble nonetheless. He didn’t have plans to ask anyone, too busy with his own aspirations and the weight of the implications of nobility to bother, but his thoughts still drifted back to the uncharacteristic flush that colored Byleth’s face over tea. What face would they make if he asked? Would they say yes? Had they... thought of someone when they paused to listen to anyone with even the smallest bit to say about the Ethereal Moon Ball? 

Had they thought of him?

He shook the daydreams from his head and left, letting more pressing, more serious thoughts fill him up until he felt like he could burst. Tomas, the librarian, the way his skin paled and greyed, the way his forehead swelled, the chaos in his eyes when he shouted his name. “Solas,” Claude said aloud, drawing confused glances from passers by. And right on the heels of an attack on merchants in his territory, on the fresh wounds ripped open at how much it mirrored attacks on House Riegan. Raphael was a forgiving, kind young man, but Claude was not. He let his easy smile twitch but a fraction when Lorenz brought his long legs and sharp nose into the room. 

Everyone giggled after he looked their teacher in the eye and promised them to meet again, to stand face to face in that very classroom in five years. He ignored the way the heat in his chest bubbled over when they smiled like that was the most wonderful thing they’d ever heard. It was impulsive, more than anything, grabbing their hand the next evening and pulling them to the dance floor. Hilda said to dance with everyone who offered, but it made his jaw work to imagine some fool coming up and asking their teacher to dance. Hell, they were swept away from him as soon as the song concluded, and his annoyance must’ve shown on his face since Hilda cut their dance short to push him towards the door.

“Go clear your head,” she demanded, stepping so she obscured his view of their professor being spun clumsily around by some faceless nobody. He tore his eyes away to look at his friend. “We both know you’re distracted, and you hate crowds, so get outta here.”

He could only offer her a grateful smile, escaping into brisk night air, the moon haloed by wisps of cloud that really made it seem ethereal. It wasn’t until he reached the top of the winding stairs that he realized his feet had brought him to the dark chambers within the Goddess Tower, walls lined with black roots like a beating heart. It must’ve been the wishful thinking of his schoolmates that had him wandering towards the objects of their fantasies. And, like a fantasy, he heard the familiar, unwavering click of heels on stone that made him turn towards his professor.

It was a deafening kind of quiet, especially detached as they were from the unbearable noise of the party. And, unexpectedly, they were alone. Claude was sure there would have been a couple or two sneaking away to promise themselves to each other or hiding behind a pillar to suck face. He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat and his eyes flicked towards his professor’s lips for just a second before he rubbed his neck and looked away. 

Why did he find them so integral to his life, so suddenly? Why did he trust them with more than just his life, but a fair share of his secrets? He may not have revealed his hand right away, but he knew in his heart that he would give them all of his cards willingly, happily, when the time came. There weren’t many people he could say that about.

They smiled when he asked them to make a promise for the future and he was struck so suddenly by how intimate a moment it was. A pair, making a promise sure to be granted by the goddess herself, within a tower who bore whispered stories of true love. He made sure his prayer was extra dramatic to hide the way his throat tightened up, and he clapped his hands together so they wouldn’t reach for Byleth like they itched to.

It only lasted a moment, however. He was usually so composed, so in control of his own emotions, that when he wasn’t, it gave way like there had never been any resistance in the first place. He needed them, couldn’t imagine his life without his Teach, and he told them that, humored the idea of a goddess because she had brought Byleth to him and now he felt like his goals and his future were forfeit without them. And he might’ve left it at that if it weren’t for the pleased, wobbly little smile they offered him in answer, lips curling in a way so obviously unfamiliar to them. 

It was night and he was standing on the stone pathway of the first floor dormitories before he really understood what he was doing. It was overcast, the kind of dark that made the world muted, the light from the torches only climbing so far off the wall. He knocked softly on the sturdy wood of the door, suddenly acutely aware if how late it was, of how ridiculous he was being, filled with the fear that they wouldn’t answer, when he heard the heavy clack of the latch, heard the soft creak of the door swinging open on its hinges, and there they were. 

Now, as much as he played the part, he wasn’t a fool. His Teach was beautiful, hair framing a round face that betrayed the hard lines of their battle scarred body, eyes bright despite the often blank expression they wore. And now, here they were, gazing at him with a look of curiosity in the sleep clothes provided by the monastery. They were simple linen things, an off white showing in soft tones of orange in the light of the candles in their room, but this was his first time seeing his Teach outside of their usual uniform. 

“Teach,” he croaked, voice breaking. He didn’t even know what to say, he didn’t even know why he was there, and still they offered him a patient smile before stepping aside, gesturing for him to come in.

He couldn’t pinpoint, couldn’t remember the exact moment their hushed conversation melted into the slick press of their tongues, but he had Byleth pressed to the bed, a hand closed around their wrist and holding it against the white sheets. Perhaps it’d been something he’d said, leaning close like he was going to whisper a secret. But if that were the case, who closed the distance? And what had he been saying? He couldn’t remember, couldn’t think, not when Byleth tilted their head and slotted their lips together like puzzle pieces on a board he never wanted to solve, and definitely not when they sucked his tongue into their mouth.

He groaned, he couldn’t help it. What was he doing? What were the two of them doing? He couldn’t find the will to stop anywhere in his body, however. Especially not when they stroked his cheek, traced the line of his jaw, and then grasped his neck to push him away. It was probably more of an accident, an unintentional motion to get some distance between them, but his body reacted almost immediately. His muscles went loose, brows drawing up a little desperately when he choked on the pressure against his throat, regardless of how slight it had been.

He made a noise, and their eyes bore into him in a way that filled him with shame and heat in equal measures. Claude didn’t resist when they pushed at his neck again, their positions reversed. Byleth was a comforting weight, straddling his hips with one hand loosely grasping his neck, grinding against the hard line of his cock through their clothes. 

They raised an eyebrow and he gasped out an answer to their silent question. “I like it,” he rasped, reaching up to touch their wrist, “I’ll tap out if it’s too much, Teach.”

Their grip tightened and he wheezed. “Yeah, exactly,” and, “fuck,” were all he could think to whisper as his pulse started to thrum hard behind his eyes. They leaned down to kiss him and breathing grew even harder, more labored, exchanging heated gasps. If he were in his right mind, he might’ve been embarrassed that he was so close, but Byleth broke the kiss to look down at him and in his oxygen deprived euphoria, he could see something warm there in their expression, candlelight reflecting in their eyes and softening what was otherwise a sharply heated moment.

They twisted their hips and he could have wept, mouth open and searching for theirs. Byleth kissed him again, used the springs on the bed as leverage to bounce their hips against his, and just as stars started to bloom across his vision, they released their tight hold on his throat and his heart stuttered, a hoarse, gasping cry climbing out of his throat as his body went taut and he came, hard, harder than he’d ever made himself come. 

Their kiss turned soft, feathering along the corner of his mouth, his cheek, jaw, and down his neck as he swam in the syrupy thick after glow of his orgasm. 

“Teach,” he groaned, burying his face in the crook of their neck as they kissed along his neck, bit gently at his collar. 

Whatever this was, he knew he couldn’t live without it anymore, not when the ache in his chest when they lifted their head to kiss him one more time was sweeter than any pleasure. No, he couldn’t do it without his professor, not anymore. 

The next day, someone made a comment about noises in the night. Hilda didn’t say anything when he buttoned his uniform all the way up his neck. 

**Author's Note:**

> 🤷🏻 Claude’s horny but it’s calculated and overthought and also? I love him


End file.
